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Galduria Scene
GM On the fifth night of the trek along the Yondabakari, the river finally empties out into the vast Ember Lake. As the sun dips down below the horizon and night lowers over Varisia, the lake shows you how it earned its name: thousands of tiny, brilliant lights shimmer just beneath the surface of the water, moving in odd, undulating pathways and patterns that mystify even the most jaded adventurer. "Ah, this is a good sign!" Bach laughs. "The Charig have come out to welcome us proper! I dunno whatever you folks are doin' in Galduria or wherever you head from there, but the little glowin' buggers are givin' you their blessin'! Well, either that, or they're warnin' ya to stay away, but I'm more a glass half-full sorta fella- you can take it fer what ya will. Anyhoo, helluva sight, ain't it?" It is late in the afternoon of the sixth day that you finally land in Galduria, as the docks are overcrowded and Bach has to take his sweet time in navigating the clogged piers. Galduria is not the most interesting or remarkable town by any stretch of the imagination but for the Twilight Academy, itself something of a Johnny-Come-Lately so far as arcane colleges go. It sticks up in the center of town like the proverbial sore thumb, like a miniature fortress in the middle of an otherwise ordinary logging town. "Been a pleasure ridin' the river with you folks," Bach says, helping you gather your luggage and march out onto the docks. "Best'a luck, all of ya. An' when you come back around to head back down to Magnimar, think of ol' Bach, will ya? Ain't nobody on the river you can trust more'n me." Dalton the Thirsty In Galduria, Dalton will cock an eyebrow at the Tower of the Twilight Academy. It was a smaller building than his home monastery but had a mysterious quality to it that he couldn't quite place. He stares at it a few moments, rubbing his chin, his expression a picture of rapt fascination. Dramin Jodare Upon reaching Galduria... "Thank you for the ride Captain Bach. You have assisted me quite a bit during this journey. If you ever decide to travel further north and I am still in Magnimar, please feel free to send for me." Dramin gives a small nod and turns to the rest of the group, his hand expecting. "I have to head into a few places to grab some materials to work with. Fetch me at the Academy when you are all ready." Though it sounds like he is going to leave, he still waits impatiently. "Oh and because I am such an excellent sailor and investigator..." He holds out a sheet with the names of those who traveled with Elias, though he puts it away just as quickly. "Ahem." He makes a motion with his hand, as if to show it needs weight. Vincent MarshCategory:Gameplay Threads To Dramin and Dalton: "Hey guys I was told to show you guys this and see what you could tell me about it." Vincent holds up the potion given to him by their employer. "Can you tell me what it is? Might come in handy." GM Dramin Spellcraft: It's a vial of oil of magic weapon. Dramin Jodare "Now where did you come from dear Marsh? Spooked me quite good." He turned back to the large man just before he reaches Dramin, surprised that he came so quickly. "I could take a look at it, give me a moment." He starts to analyze it, knowing with full confidence what it is before it even enters his hand. He grins and makes an effort to show how simple it was. Dramin hands it back to Marsh giving him the details. He just smiles and then hands him the sheet Bach provided with the names of the others on it. "Do me a favor and follow up on these names. They traveled with Elias. Perhaps they are important." He turns back to detecting the magic behind the partition. Sebastian Bacarov Upon reaching Galduria, Bacarov opts for the tavern scene and the supply shops. "I want to see if our quarry left an impression. Then perhaps see if there's any rumor mill regarding Ravenmoor. Might check in with the Watch posting here if there's one." He shoulders his pack and looks to Dramin. From a hip pouch, he passes the 5 gold. "Dramin, since you're heading the way of the Academy, any chance you could see if any folk in Ravenmoor have been in the market for magical oddities? Just a hunch, if you've got the chance." "Good luck," he responds to Warshawski. "Tread lightly, things get...stranger the further you get from the city." To Marsh, "You comin', Vinnie? Or do you want to check the docks for info?" At the tavern/supply shops -''' Bacarov will be looking for the following: * Rumors of Ravenmoor & the upcoming Festival * Conditions on the road there * Types of supplies for the journey * Types of characters passing thru towards Ravenmoor * Lastly, rumors of Elias GM You're an old hat at canvassing the streets and social hotspots for information, and find that your efforts are rewarded quite nicely on this occasion. Most of the locals are aware of Ravenmoor, but only a scant few claim to have ever actually been there. The general consensus is that, while the people there are friendly enough, it's just not worth the trip out there considering there's no inn, hardly anywhere to shop, and the whole place is crawling with Stirges. The Ravenmoor folk creep many Galdurians out, but one fellow mentions happening to be in town on the day of one of their monthly festivals a few years back, and recalls it being a lively time: '''"Yeah, it was a little odd- they had all kinds'a weird games and events goin' on, but it was all in good fun. Watched some fellas try to catch a greased pig, that was a good time. The raven fights sounded distasteful at first, me bein' an animal lover an' all, but they actually took good care of them birds. I happened in there at an opportune time, too, 'cuz once a'year, they do a special thing after this big feast where local girls compete to get crowned 'Queen of the Festival' or somethin', an' boy, I don't know what's in the water that far up the Lampblack, but damn if they don't have some fine-lookin' young girls in Ravenmoor! Food there's great, too! Just don't ask what'cher eatin'- I learned that lesson the hard way. I ain't in a hurry to go back, though. Too many damn skeeters, an' them bug-eyed Stirges are creepy as hell. I seen them little critters eyein' my neck like they wanted a long, hot drink from it, I don't care how sweet their owners say they are. Road's ain't too safe up that way, either, bein' that close to the Churlwood. I had a couple armed guards with me when I went, but I wouldn't wanna go on my own. 'Fraid I'd get waylaid." You also learn that the road to Ravenmoor from Galduria actually branches off from a well-traveled main road that runs alongside the Lampblack's western shore. The road after the branching point doesn't get much use, and the surrounding hinterlands are rough, muddy, and far from pleasant- but at least they're far enough from the Churlwood that the threat of bandits is lessened. Bugs seem to be a problem, however. From what you've gathered, it seems you might want to pick up camping supplies, some extra rations, and possibly some mosquito nets for your tents. Something good for hacking down overgrown foliage might also be useful, and you've been warned to take precautions in case of sinkholes or quick-mud. When it comes to looking into what sort of characters pass through to Ravenmoor, however, you learn little; most people just don't get up that way, and when they do, they're usually just passing through or stumble across it by accident. That may be why Elias Kyle's name rings a bell for one particular barkeep. "Yeah, he was a homely, red-haired fella, wasn't he? He did mention that he was headed up to Ravenmoor. Official Magnimar Business, he said. Real smartass, that one. Had to kick him out for grabbin' onto one of my waitresses' rear ends- heard he got himself into a rumble at the next bar he went to, even. Gave some half-orc a real wallopin'. People don't head up to Ravenmoor much, so that's probably why I remember him. What was that, about a month ago?" There is little other progress in determining Elias Kyle's whereabouts- he doesn't seem to have left much of an impression in Galduria, aside from whatever half-orc he "walloped" that night at the bar. Sebastian Bacarov Standing out front of the supply shop, Bacarov folds his arms across is chest and sighs. "The more I hear about Ravenmoor, the more I think it's not a coincidence they don't pay taxes. I can imagine the conversation at the tax assessors years ago..." "No that place out in the swamps?" "Sure, that mud bog...what's it's name? Ravingbore?" "Yeah, the one with the trained bloodsucking bugs." "Here's 10 gold from my pay so I don't have to go. Taxes assessed, next case." Bacarov shakes his head and chuckles. "Think we should make sure we've got sturdy tents, oiled canvas if we can. I've got a feeling we'll be sleeping under the stars of the rumors of Ravenmoor's hospitality holds true." He eyes Vinnie and waits to get his impression of the info they've uncovered. Vincent Marsh In the bar: "Does this half-Orc have a name? How much was the guy drinkin? Did he look like a lush? Have anyone else hangin around with him?" Outside the bar "S@*#, what a waste. The administration probably just stopped pickin up taxes from the place because it costs more a year to collect them than they should pay. 50 gold?! That's over what we are gonna spend gettin there. Now we gotta buy Stirge proof tents! How the hell would this place make 50 gold a year anyway?" "Heh, I guess Warshawski would say it's the principal of it right?" "Anyways, here's a list of names that travelled up the river with our missin person. Maybe we can find out if any of em went towards Ravenmoor with him." Marsh shakes his head in disbelief again. "What a dumbass though, "I'm on official Magnimar business." --- that's like tattooin "take it deep" on yer ass, headin over to the bathhouse, then wonderin why you're so popular all of a sudden. What a moron." "I mean that guy could be stuffed in a rain barrel anywhere around here the way he's been conductin himself." Sebastian Bacarov Though explaining the situation with his usual flair for metaphor, Bacarov can't help but agree with the assessment. Chances are Elias is stuffed in a barrel somewhere. Or in the scat of some Ravenmoor pet. But he was assigned the case and he'd see it thru to whatever end. "Maybe, maybe not," He responds to Marsh regarding the condition of Elias Kyle. He glances down at the list and shakes his head. "Word around town is he traveled alone, they marked him a fool for it. Besides, these former adventuring chums are on different paths. We can look, but I doubt they're involved." Bacarov rubs at his throat subconsciously, thoughts of the Rook and stirges dancing in his head. "Can't say an investment in a leather gorget would be inopportune. Maybe some additional antitoxin." "That tavern over there, word is it's where guards can be hired. Might be a good spot to listen in on scuttlebutt. Maybe find that half-orc Elias clobbered." He folds his arms and nods to the supply shop. "I want to get a peek at some maps of the two roads to Ravenmoor, buy one and start marking it up. I think the short road is best, riskier with bandits but best. The long way, I don't know about the term 'bugs'." He shrugs. "We'll see what the others think." GM Bacarov's savvy makes short work of the local shopkeep's efforts to overcharge him, and in the end, he settles for a "bulk discount" that sets the entire order at a flat 75 GP, since he "likes your face." That's for five small tents, mosquito nets, one sickle, one vial of antitoxin, ten rations,a collapsible probe set, and one suit of padded gorget armor. He even throws in a map of the area, to boot- it may be worth noting that the trail that leads directly to Ravenmoor after branching off the Lampblack Trail isn't even shown on the map. While you are unable to find anyone who has the lay of the land on the path to Ravenmoor- no hunters or guides- you do, in your inquiries, happen to catch the name of the half-orc Elias Kyle pummeled during his stay in Galduria: a local logger named Hektor Loomis, who- as the ever-helpful bartender points out- is actually in the building, seated at the bar. He's quite scrawny for a half-orc, but there's no mistaking his olive-green skin and jutting tusks. Vincent Marsh In town "Naw, this is a list of the travelers that were on the boat with him. I guess we can always back track if we don't find him between here and Ravenmoor. I'm ready to get on with it. I'm not enamored with a place with no roadhouse, makes me think somethins up with the place. I mean who the hell domesticates Stirges? . . . Weird right?" "Anyways, let's hit this place up, Ah?" In the Bar "Aye there Mr. Loomis. The name's Marsh an'this here is my associate Mr., Ah, Sebastian. We've come ta understand that you had a run in with someone were also interested in findin for a chat. I guess you caught the end of his mace, ring a bell? Red haired human, kinda smunched up nose, bout yey tall." GM Hektor Loomis looks up at you wearily. "Ah, hell," he groans. "Tell me I'm not in trouble. Bad enough that I got my ass kicked in public- I been hearin' 'Nice job, White Knight!' for weeks. That ginger idiot came strollin' in here with his chest all puffed out and started playin' touchy-feely with one'a the girls here- Ruby, one of the nicer girls here. He was all, 'I'm a big, bad Magnimar city official! I deserve a good time on account of gracin' you Galdurian hicks with my shining countenance!' An' I, bein' the respectable fella I am, stepped up to put him in his place because, well, I happen to respect the girls around here and nobody's got any right to talk down to 'em like that, and... 'fore I knew it, I was lights-out on the floor with a dent in my head." He points to his skull as if he expects you to see some lingering lump there, but it's been nearly a month now, and it seems to have completely healed. "Sucker nailed me with a mace! Can you believe that? Could'a killed me, probably. But hey, I got a girlfriend out of it, so maybe it's not a total loss." He grins and waves to one of the waitresses, presumably the aforementioned Ruby. Nice-looking girl- not every day you see a girl like her with a half-orc, but then again, Hektor's hardly the hulking ogre that immediately comes to mind when one thinks of that race. He doesn't know anything else about what happened, even the man's name- "Elias Kyle" doesn't even ring a bell, though the man who beat his head in does match Kyle's description. Vincent Marsh Vince studies the halforc for a bit. "Nope, yer not in any trouble. Sounds like that jackass is quite the cheapshoter. I wouldn't tolerate that s+~$ either." Karl sets a short stack of silver on the table and slides it over to the man sitting across the table. "In fact, we'll buy you an the new misses a drink. You can bank the balance . . . Call her over Mr. Loomis, maybe she can tell us where that b!$$@ went after he lumped you. Or maybe she might know someone that would have made it their business where he may have gone. We'd appreciate it." Sebastian Bacarov Sebastian lets Marsh take the lead as they move into question the half-orc. It's a natural move, then having worked together on various occasions. So long as there wasn't an opportunity for Vinnie's self-doubt to enter the equation, Bacarov is content to sit back and listen. GM Ruby, the waitress in question, comes over and has a seat at the booth next to Hektor. She is quite fetching. "You gents are lookin' for that Kyle fella who bashed in poor Hektor's skull last month, then?" she asks. "What's he done, gone and killed somebody? Not surprisin', that. He was all, 'hey, baby, you wanna come along up to Ravenmoor with me? I could use some comp'ny on the road!' I mean, what a creeper, yeah? He mentioned Riddleport, too- like he might'a been lookin' into headin' up that way after. Didn't sound sure, though. I'm guessin' he might'a run up that way after he finished his 'official city business.'" She sighs. "I hope you boys catch 'im. He swung that mace around like he knew what he was doin'- I'd be scared for anybody he decided had looked at 'im the wrong way or somethin'. An' watch yerselves- he's a tough cookie." Sebastian Bacarov Sebastian feels the disappointment in his guts. It's normal. Living in a city where most of your sites included pools of blood and questions, disappointment came with the territory. But this time, he'd really been hoping Elias was one of the good guys. Some schlep who'd found love and lost it, then found found a bottle but climbed back out. There'd been doubt, knowing how much Annikee had sunk into him...the map of Riddleport... He shares a look with Marsh but remains silent until they depart the couple's company. "So now we ask ourselves, did Elias just go to Ravenmoor, get the gold from the bug-lovers, then skip to Riddleport?" Vincent Marsh "Heh, did he go to Ravenmoor at all you mean? I was startin to think maybe he made a big splash and an ass of himself everywhere he went in order to make people notice his passin this way. Then just take off somewhere else, but he needs money. If he was lookin for company, I wonder if he found someone to go with him? Or, he hit up the cathouse." "Ya ready to hit the brothel? Or you think yer new favorite midnight dancer would get pissed off at you? Heh heh." "Hey, don't look so glum pal, you knew this was more than likely gonna be a bust. The dude's a b+$@$%!+, whatever, we do what we're paid to do. It's still a missin person case regardless of how you might personally feel about the guy. Look at it this way, if we find him in Ravenmoor being used like a meat hand puppet or somethin, it won't suck as bad as it would if he was nice people." GM To Warshawski: You happen to spot Bacarov and Marsh sitting at a table in the very tavern you have entered. They appear to be chatting with a half-orc and a comely waitress. They don't seem to notice you come in. The Desnan acolyte, whose name is Marvene, is all too eager to talk theology with you. "Lycanthropes? Well, I'd hope not. Werewolves are terrible business, aren't they? And were''sharks''? Ech. Can't imagine anything more horrible than that." He grins and stares at you. He's laying it on thick. "Anyhoo, a party every time the moon is full? It sounds like fun, even if I'm not sure of the theological implication. Desna is of the stars, and those are out every night. Not that I'm opposed to partying every night..." You feel a light prodding under the table and realize that Marvene is trying to play footsie. You detect that he's being perfectly honest with you. You also detect that he's hoping to get something out of this. Honest, but a bit of a lout. "Desna, you know, she's the Starsong, Tender of Dreams, as well as the mistress of freedom and luck- and what divine intervention, sending a thing such as yourself my way! It's as if you stepped right out of one of my own sweet dreams." He waits a moment for a response, then continues: "Anyhoo, as a priest-in-training of Desna, I'm pretty handy with a Starknife- my depth perception's pretty bad, so I'm not so good at throwing it, but I can handle it pretty well as long as it stays in my hand. Any Desnan worth his salt can sling one of these guys around." He proudly shows off the star-shaped weapon; even a cursory knowledge of Desna can see the iconography. It's a bit of a fanciful weapon, but with enough training, you can see how it could be effective. A bit like your own bladed scarf, actually; it would take years of practice to wield with any sort of practicality. "Ravenmoor's a bit isolated, right? That must be tough. Desnans love to travel almost as much as we love to sleep. I've never met anyone from there on my travels. If they can't respect the beauty of travel, then their understanding of Her can't be complete." Sebastian Bacarov After the half-orc and his girlfriend depart and Marsh days his piece, Bacarov agrees with us friend regarding the ramifications of Elias' nature. Namely, it meant nothing in the larger context of their case. They are to find him, and collect the taxes owed. Lacking the former, then they'd need to know what became of the drunken lech. "Seems Warshawski has found an admirer." He gives the investigator a friendly raiser of his flagon of ale, indicating an open invitation to join their table. He leans over to Marah and whispers, "Try not giving her the business, eh chumeroo? Same side, remember?" Warshawski Just what I needed. I couldn't have gotten one of the sexy, laconic followers of Desna with a twinkle in their eye and knowledge of the mystic sexual rituals of the far east. No, I got a chattering chipmunk whose balls just dropped. Lucky me. I grabbed hold of the kid's hand and dragged him over to Bacarov and Marsh before he tried to do more with his foot than just nudge mine. I pushed him into a chair and sat down myself. "Marsh. Bacarov. This is Marvene. He follows Desna." I made the introductions quick, before grabbing hold of Bacarov's drink and taking a long swallow. He'd forgive me. "He's never been to Ravemoor but he agrees that the concept of an entire community that stays put being dedicated to a goddess of travel makes no sense. Something's wrong. With the full moon rituals? I'm thinking we want to get some silver before we head up there. There are good werewolves. Ashava has some who serve her... but..." I shrugged my shoulders and let them fill in the rest. They were bright boys. At least, Bacarov was. GM Marvene waves nervously as Warshawski introduces him to her "friends." "Oh, uh, hi," he says, a hint of anxious disappointment in his voice. "I didn't realize... yeah. Right. Ravenmoor, huh? You guys are going there? Like, what, an investigation, or something...? So anyway, uh, anything I can help you, um, gentlemen with...? Because... if not... y'know, I have, like, matters to attend to... and all that..." He wrings his hands together nervously, and keeps glancing at the intimidating form of Vincent Marsh as if he's expecting a haymaker at any moment. Sebastian Bacarov Sebastian looks down at his empty tankard and then up to Warshawski, a mock look of victimization in his eyes. But he leans back in his chair and chuckles. "And here I was worried about bloodsucking pet bugs and the fact our lost man is most likely a greedy, gobber-humping opportunist." A shake of the head, knowing the vile hand of addiction all too well. "Seems he's not a fan of wagons, because he fell off of one recently. Got the idea of setting off to Riddleport once the job was done. But it could have been his cups talking." He waggles his empty tankard in the direction of the passing waitress, adding a genuine smile of gratitude and a respectful bow of the head when she acknowledges him. He adds a gesture towards the others at the table for her to grab a round of drinks for them too. "So, werewolves. Hmmm, that casts a dark light on their annual crowning of the Queen of the Festival. Legend has it, lycanthropes fancy a well-turned ankle." Bacarov drums his fingers on the tabletop, finally giving the youngster a look. "Don't worry about old Vinnie, Mister Marvene, he only pummels the insolent. Stick around and enjoy a drink, but if you're too busy we'll understand if you need to be going." To Warshawski, "I've got an open tab at Stanislov's supply shop. If there's silver weapons here, he'll have them." He gives a pat to the short sword at his hip, wondering if Cold Iron would do against a werewolf. "At any rate, looks like we're just in time for their biggest festival in Ravenmoor. Raven fights, stirges for pets. The people are friendly enough in the light of day, but they don't want anything to do with outsiders after sundown." When the waitress returns, he smiles warmly and pays the bill in silver. "Thank you, ma'am." Back to the group. "There's two roads into town; one goes by the forest and has that fresh 'roving bandit feel'. The other takes you closer to the water, it's longer, but less bandity..." He takes a drink of ale. "...of course there's quick mud and bloodsucking bugs-a-plenty. I've got some supplies for both options on hold at Stanislov's shop so we can outfit." He sips at his ale, indicating there's more but wanting to see what Warshawski or Marsh had to add. For his part, Bacarov didn't mind having to repeat himself to Dalton and Dramin. It gave him a chance to keep his facts straight. Vincent Marsh "Heh heh heh, well here I was expecting a dance off or something. Relax buddy, sit and have a drink with the lady. She brought Ya all the way in here just to let us know you've never been where we want to go, but maybe you know someone who has?" Warshawski "At the very least, we should be able to get vials of silver weapon blanch at that eyesore of a magic school." I ventured, agreeing with Bacarov's assessment. He and I knew fighting smarter was what we were good at. Our arms weren't designed for fighting tough. "What do you think, Marvene?" I turned to the pipsqueak of Desna. I didn't want him coming with us but maybe he could still be useful. "Your goddess rules travel, right? Perhaps her guidance can tell us which road to take to get to Ravenmoor as safely as possible. Or, at least, which road our friend took. We need to find him, even if he's dead in a ditch along the way." Dalton the Thirsty As Warshawski is saying "dead in a ditch", Dalton is just opening the door to the Galduria Tavern. "This feels familiar," he comments to himself, as he stands in the doorway and looks around for his other companions. "At least I know what they look like now...ah, there they are." Gesturing to them, Dalton beckons Dramin over and crosses his arms as he stands before his party's table. "Hello, hello. Is this one helping us find Elias?" he asks, gesturing at Marvene with a raised eyebrow. Dramin Jodare Dramin turns to Dalton with a smirk and takes a seat next to the newest person there, not acknowledgong him as he sits. "You could say that Bacarov. It had nothing to do with this investigation but it sparked me good." He thuds his boots on the table. "Regale us with your story and findings then, I have filled my quota for magical study today so I have some time to diversify towards this matter." Dalton the Thirsty "I saw a little elephant." Dalton says, smiling as he sits at the table as well. Sebastian Bacarov Bacarov grins at Dalton, curious about just what it was the two men got up to at the Academy. "So I think we find that the locals are aware of Ravenmoor. It's a town with nice enough people, but it's not travel friendly." Sebastian pulls out his notebook, a threadbare tome bound in hardened leather and wrapped in an oiled cloth. He flips it open and starts going through his notes. "Seems since there's no inn and nothing in the way of commerce, most just don't go out that way. Plus, the folks there are in the practice of keeping stirges as pets." He opens the book further so he can show the gathering a quick picture he'd drawn based on another one Stanislov had shown him. Of course Bacarov has added some grotesque embellishments and notes while he was listening to Marsh question the young couple. (Stirge Drawing) Bacarov continues reading from his notes, "I guess they have monthly festivals out there. One paluka managed being in Ravenmoor during one such party. Greased pig chasing, some raven fights...says they take good care of the birds. Could be like the rooster fights down in Rag's End." He shrugs and thumbs passed a page or two. "There's an annual crowning of Queen of the Festival. The guy I spoke with says the girls there are unusually pretty. Other than that, his take matches up with what others generally think of the place; creepy." "Warshawski found a lead in that Ravenmoor venerates Desna, goddess of travel. The oddity being these folk are isolationist and stationary." He pauses a moment. "But I'll let her outline everything she discovered. Dramin and Dalton, your visit to the academy will come in handy there." he adds in reference to Warshawski's request for silver implements. "Travel is going to be rough, don't think that's a surprise. I've got some gear lined up for us at Stanislov's Shop down the road. Tents too since it sounds like we won't get a warm welcome." He closes his notebook and continues after a sip of ale. "Two roads in; one over by the Churlwood is direct but lousy with bandits. The second is off the maps, muddy and buggy and longer. I might go for the first option since bandits are easier to fight than swamp beasties." He gestures with his hand and bowed his head indicating a consensus on the decision should be reached. "Then there's our good friend, Elias. Vinnie and I had a chat with the half-orc he topsy-turvied with that mace of his. Seems there was a girl involved that Elias thought he could get handsy with."'Bacarov shakes his head and reaches into his coat for his pipe. '"The half-orc, being a good guy, comes to her defense. Elias gave him a pounding for his courage." He holds up a finger and adds, "Not before he'd already decided to get into his cups and start bragging about his plans after visiting Ravenmoor. If the truth was in his drink, he planned on getting the coin, then skipping to Riddleport." Sebastian glances Vinnie's way. "Didn't change our assignment, but might give us some insight if Elias doesn't turn up in Ravenmoor." Warshawski I was impressed by how thorough Bacarov was but, truth be told, watching him work was always a pleasure. We had different methods for getting the job done. It was like watching a hummingbird and a sparrow fly side by side. They both got to their destination but in different ways and at different times. "He got the short of it." I agreed with Bacarov's assessment of the situation. "Apparently the entire village worships Desna. Their festivals are on the full moon. Now, it could just be they like as much light as possible for the evening part of their festivities but the whole situation is twisting my stomach. It doesn't hurt to be prepared with a few alchemical silver weapons or, at the very least, a silver weapon blanche to coat our own weapons with." I chucked my chin towards the person sitting at the table who wasn't a member of our little group. "This is Marvene. He's a Cleric of Desna. He was just going to tell us if the goddess of travel had any guidance on which route we should take." Dalton the Thirsty "I think we saw alchemical silver at that shop Remy got us access to, didn't we Dramin?" the monk shifts in his chair to address the mage. "Frankly, I thought she had better rapport with you, I was so distracted by the collection of strange beasts they had amassed." he chuckles a little to hide his embarrassment at not remembering exactly. GM Marvene hardly has time to twiddle his fingers nervously before Dramin and Dalton make their appearance. After their approach, he quietly says: "Well, no, actually, I don't personally know anybody who's been up that way, but... I mean... I guess I could look at a map and pray for guidance... maybe see what the Starsong thinks of your branching paths... all that... but I mean... if it was me... I'd probably just risk the bandits... giant ticks 'n all..." As everyone discusses what they've learned and makes plans for their departure, the waitress brings around another round of drinks and winks at Bacarov. Marvene looks around anxiously, looking for an excuse to leave but obviously not wanting to be rude about it. If he seemed nervous around Marsh before, he's practically shaking in his boots now that Dalton and Dramin have arrived. Clearly, the Desnan acolyte is feeling out of his depth. Dramin Jodate "Yes, thats very plausible. I haven't seen a place that doesn't stock up on silvers. I could craft my own arrows if we came down to it." He pulls out a cold iron arrow from his backup quiver and puts it down on the table. "I don't think alchemical silver would be that difficult to work with or find." He shifts slightly in his seat and turns to Dalton. "Right, Remy. She was a swell lass truth be told. She understood that this ruffian was more than the eye showed and graciously helped us out. Though I must say the menagerie of animals helped the mood." He grabs the paper on the table and takes a look for a moment. "Speaking of menageries..." He twists his ring and thinks up a spell, speaking a little under his breath and moving his fingers as to hit keys on a too large piano. "Awarhi." And with that word he gains a Heightened Awareness. He thinks for a second, pondering whether or not the stirges may have a link in this whole situation with the moon, magic and spellcasts. He tries to recall what he can about stirges and what they may do or mean in large groups. He decides that it might be a dead end and tries another line of thought, using his natural knowledges instead.Sometimes the mundane is the most extraordinary afterall. Satisfied with what he knows about striges, he goes on to focus on something that the less learned of the group may have missed. Though he recalls the information earlier about the ticks and bandits and relays the latter back to Bacarov. "There may be ticks. Ravenous ones at that. If we do head into the foliage we may find what plagued the area with blight and clues to how they stopped it. If this place is a suspicious as you make it out to be it could be a smart move." He doesn't have much of an opinion left or right, "Though bandits are easy enough to deal with and have less surprises." Dalton the Thirsty Dalton blanches at the mention of giant ticks. "We have a similar pest problem in Rahadoum. As charming as the native wildlife undoubtedly is, I think I'd rather take my chances with the risk of meeting humanoid foes." His fingertips drum a few times on the table rapidly all in a row. GM To Dramin: Stirges, as far as you know, have no particular connection to lunar cycles. One notable peculiarity is their attraction to certain areas in which some vast magical occurance has permanently altered the makeup of the land; that, and hot, moist environs. Many of them are filthy and carry diseases, likely from feeding on the blood of the local swamplife. Stirges can form groups of up to forty individuals, but more often keep to smaller colonies of two to four. Sebastian Bacarov "Hmm, while the sound of giant ticks is attractive," Bacarov says wistfully."...perhaps taking the road infested with lowlife scum may be better." He considers something Dramin mentions. Is there a Blight in the area where we're heading? While the others decide to which direction their vote belongs, he taps lightly in Marvene's direction and smiles warmly. "A prayer for guidance from Desna would be welcome, young sir. Why don't you speak to her and let us know her opinion?" It's a small effort to encourage the boy and hopefully smooth his jitters. Bacarov is tempted to sow the thought but stops himself. The detective is always reluctant to use his gifts. Instead he withdraws the simple map he'd acquired from Stanislov's and spreads it onto the table. "Here you go, my friend. A focus for your prayers." GM Marvene nervously takes the map and focuses on it, delving into a deep prayer while laying his hands on the map. As he chants quietly, his fingers trace over the path to Ravenmoor until it splits into the two roads, and his expression grows troubled. Still, he keeps his focus, and after a moment, he sighs and sits back. "Well, I have no idea if I even did that right," he groans."But I'll tell you the feeling I got- there's danger along both paths. Dark clouds are gathering over Ravenmoor- I mean that metaphorically, of course- and that rain's coming down whether or not you muck through the swamp or hike along the bandit-infested highroad. Sounds like a case of 'pick your poison.' I'll tell you this much, though- if it were me, I'd trust my skills against a human being over trying to fight some overgrown insect or mud-monster any day." He gives a little half-smile of mock reassurance, and adds: "May the Tender of Dreams guide your feet and bring you safe passage, friends. ...On whatever the heck this task of yours turns out to be." Sebastian Bacarov "Thank you, good Marvene, you've conducted yourself well today. Think well of us on your travels, stay the path." Bacarov stands smoothly as the priest rises to leave, extending a hand to shake. "If you ever find your feet wandering towards Magnimar, look up Helios Sunstreaker at the Triodea. He's one of the playwrights and a follower of the Starsong. A good man to know in the city. Tell him Sebastian says good day." He watches the young man, knowing what it's like to be unsure and new, cast into the midst of those more experienced. His first years on the Watch had been rough as he navigated the waters of those who used their brutish advantages while he was left with his cunning. At the least, Bacarov hopes the kid feels some encouragement. "So," he says after retaking his seat. "...it sounds as though the bandit road is getting the most votes. What say you two?" Bacarov inquires of Warshawski and Marsh. Warshawski Oh, what the hell. I decided to throw the kid a bone. After all, he'd done what we asked. Sure, I could have given him coin but he was hoping for something else as a reward. I wasn't about to give him a ride but at least I could give him a memory. I leans over and kissed him on the cheek. "Good job, Marvene." I said as I gently nudged him up. "Our paths are taking us in different directions but we can thank Desna we met you." "Bandit road. Makes the most sense for our wayward tax collector to have gone. If he ran into bandits, we might find his corpse along the way." Vincent Marsh "No one goes that way, maybe the trail will show us which way he went. Either way is fine. Might as well kill bandits, the ticks are just tryin to get by. Representin the government it will be legal and we might even collect bounty." ". . . Hum, on second thought, maybe we should go the tick route. The bandit route might mean too many spirits waitin around for Warshawski, just sayin." Sebastian Bacarov Bacarov gives Marsh a hard look and proceeds. It is time to get the case moving along. "Then it's decided. We take the forest road." He pulls a list from his coat pocket and lays it on the table. "Here's the supplies I've heard tell will serve us on the road. I had some time and played quartermaster." "That last item's for me," Bacarov gives the collar of his shirt a tug. "All this talk about bloodsucking stirges got me on the mood to protect my neck." He gives a chuckle and drinks his ale. "If we're in the market for specialty items, like silvered gear, I'll pick up 40 of that total to help with the costs." GM Pleasantly surprised by your thanks for his services, Marvene blushes- and when Warshawski gives him a peck on the cheek, he grins like an idiot. "Well, thank you for the opportunity to help fellow travelers," he says. "I'll be sure to look into your friend Helios if I'm ever in Magnimar. In the meantime, like any Desnan, I don't like to be tied down in any one spot, but... if you're ever in need of assistance of the priestly sort, look me up. If I can't help you myself, I'd be happy to vouch for you with a more experienced cleric." With that, Marvene bows and takes his leave. Warshawski Marsh opened his mouth and stupidity flew out. Again. It must have been an hour that began with a number. "There are always spirits, Marsh. There are thirteen of them in this bar, right now. Two hovering over your shoulder. I like spirits. They're better company than a lot of the living."